Lips of an Angel
by Writer'sBlockAllDay
Summary: Coming from the lips of an angel, hearing those words, it makes me weak. [I don't own the cover image]


**A/N: It's me again! So this is just another tidbit that entered my head a few days ago while** _ **Lips of an Angel**_ **was playing in my music player. And since I've taken quite an affinity for Blueshipping, Kaiba began bothering my brain—incessantly might I add. Oh, and kudos to the people who can guess the other girl residing in this fic. xD And I highly recommend listening to the song while you're reading this. :3 Since it's a song fic and all.**

 **DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Seto Kaiba or Kisara. They belong to Takahashi, and** _ **Lips of an Angel**_ **is performed by Hinder.**

* * *

 **Lips of an Angel**

The door slammed loudly, banging against the frame with a force that would have shaken it out of its hinges. The young man stalked into the room, seething and glowering at just about anything, hot cerulean fire blazing in the depths of his irises. Slender fingers gripped the edges of the hardwood chest of drawers, knuckles turning white as the bones underneath strained against his pale skin. He was enraged—furious, and he could barely do anything to contain his wrath.

One more. Just _one_ more screw up; one more slip-up, _one_ more pleading gaze from those pathetic eyes, and he would _definitely_ throw caution to the wind. He would let his company burn to the ground if it meant relieving himself of the burden of taking on a trophy wife. Give it a try, their sh*t. Those retarded screw-ups could shove the stock prices right up their assholes.

He would do _anything_ for the sake of his company, and that was why he had agreed to the proposal, but to stretch it far enough to this extent, it was too much. He supposed he had a fault in the whole fiasco. He had allowed it to get too far without considering the repercussions that it would bring later. Now he was too deeply rooted into this to back out—or, that's what he thought.

Frankly speaking, he could easily refute all of this with just a single word, but he knew the problem. His pride and reputation was at stake. It was a challenge that had been issued, and it wasn't one he was going to back down from. He had only agreed to the proposal in the first place because he knew the benefits his company would reap out of it, but in each and every day that he got to see her face, he couldn't help but feel like he was demoting himself from a place of power.

The media ate up every kind of information leaked regarding his current status. (He hardly considered it a relationship.) The masses had lapped it up like pathetic dogs under the table desperate for scraps. He had witnessed first hand how they all stared starry-eyed at his latest publicity stunt. Oh, this girl had melted his heart. She's so sweet, so meek, so obedient, so loyal, so _perfect._

He resisted the urge to spit at those string of unworthy adjectives. How very fitting that they liken her qualities to a dog—especially since a relative of hers was like one. She hung off of his arm; a trophy presented before the public to convince them that he was a dedicated family man and that he had goals for his own future as well. The public was dead wrong to naively assume that he was head over heels for the redhead currently residing in the room across the hall. And said redhead was the very cause of his latest frustration.

Her naivety had been tolerable at first. He understood that she had no knowledge that would benefit his company whatsoever, but in the seven months that he had spent _pretending_ to care about her, he had come to know that her clueless train of thought was incredibly _irritating_. He was inclined to believe that the girl lacked a mind of her own—always needing reassurance, always wanting confirmation, always pushing to be around him to 'let him know she was ready to help' when all she could really do was sit and look innocent. She was _overly needy_ , and he _hated it_! He _detested_ it! She was utterly _useless!_ She was too fragile and too dependent. She was so weak! And Seto Kaiba hated the thought that this woman was probably going to be his wife in the long run.

Too fragile a flower was useless to a man like him. He had his personal character preferences when it came to the opposite sex, and he would not deny the truth that he liked potentially vulnerable women. That particular taste branched out from the CEO's tendencies to assert his dominance in some manner. But he only took pleasure in their vulnerability to a certain degree; too much of that trait and it made females extremely clingy. And he _hated_ clingy girls.

He had enough of himself and his brother and his company to care and worry about. He didn't have to be at her beck and call too. She wasn't his f**king butler. Why she even felt the need to consult with him for every decision she made was beyond him. Couldn't she run her own life? She didn't even oppose this engagement because she professed to care about him, and according to her, he needed someone who could show him the brighter side of life. So she cared about him, big deal. He didn't reciprocate, and she knew it, but she was perfectly all right with it. If that little notion didn't scream desperation, then he didn't know what did.

She could have made it so much easier for the two of them if she had refused, but she just _had_ to agree.

For some reason, he couldn't help himself from comparing this annoying redhead with that other woman. Heck, he knew it was wrong to compare _her_ to the overly sweet boneless creature currently residing in his mansion, but it was hardly unavoidable. Why couldn't the woman across the hall be as brilliant as _her_?

He would regrettably admit that part of the reason he had agreed to this recent publicity maneuver was to distract himself from thinking of _her_. He thought that maybe if he went gallivanting off with another woman—even if he wasn't serious about it—would keep him from falling back into his dark thoughts and trying to figure out why he had chosen to cut himself from her—from Kisara.

He hadn't even realized that he had broken himself away from the dresser that he had been previously gripping. Instead, he found himself staring at his smart phone, contemplating on whether he should act upon it or not. After a minute or two of deliberation, the CEO chose to screw it. He had just arrived from a charity gala, and now he was heading out again—with a different destination in mind.

Grabbing his black overcoat on his way out, he wasted no time in heading for the garage to claim his vehicle.

He _needed_ to do this. He _needed_ an affirmation if he was going to change his life for the better.

vVvVv

He cursed at himself as he glanced at his phone propped up on the holder. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as he focused his hardened gaze outside the windshield. It had been ringing for four times now... Five... And by some miracle, the other person on the line picked up at the sixth ring. He resisted the sudden urge to sigh in utter relief.

" _Who is this?"_ Came the wondrous voice that he had wanted to hear for so long now, even if he found it odd that she didn't recognize his number, or maybe she hadn't checked the caller ID. How long had it been? Two years?

"It's me." His voice came off sounding flat—dead.

" _K-Kaiba?"_ She uttered in a stuttering whisper, as if she was unsure of how to say it.

He inwardly cursed himself yet again. The stretch of time had erased all sense of familiarity, it seemed. He hated it, and briefly wondered if he had made the right decision as impulsively as he did.

" _I'm sorry. I didn't check who it was—"_

"I'm on my way over." He interrupted her before she could say anymore.

" _B-But—"_

It would seem rude, but it was the only way he knew how to end that little snippet without having to state any awkward goodbyes. He had a lot of explaining to do, and a lot of catching up happening at the end. He knew he had left her confused and bewildered, and he felt guilty about that just as an unforgiving wave of nostalgia hit his mind in torrential floods. Without giving her an appropriate response, he had left her in a similar state the last time he had seen her, and because of that, he knew it would take a miracle to redeem himself now.

He even failed to realize that he had accelerated the vehicle all the way to the roads that led to her apartment complex. It was a bit disturbing to note that he was so familiar with the location even after two years. He had driven her down the same road multiple times before, fetching her from and taking her home. The situation he was in was odd—on more levels than one. He wasn't supposed to be here. He wasn't even supposed to initiate contact or make up some form of excuse to see her, but he knew he had to—he wanted and _needed_ to. And he feared the answer that his mind would conjure.

He only returned to his present state of mind when he fully realized that he was standing before a heavy door made entirely out of oak wood, and that he was expected to knock on it for courtesy's sake. He had climbed the front stone steps unknowingly, and now here he was. Lifting a hand, he gently rapped on the barrier marking the entrance to her home with his knuckles, patiently waiting for a response on the other side. Hearing her voice over the phone was one thing; seeing her in the flesh was another.

Nevertheless, he could hear the chain attached across the door being removed and the knob being turned. Before long, the crack that had appeared at the threshold widened to reveal a silver-haired young woman standing on the round welcome mat precariously laid on the tiled floor. The dim light cast shadows upon his tall frame, and from her attire, he could easily deduce that she had been just about ready to turn in for the night. It _was_ pretty late, and his call must have disrupted her schedule.

He should feel sorry, but he didn't.

"I apologize for the late intrusion." He offered, tilting his head slightly, only then noticing the expression she wore and the down turned set of her blue eyes that were slightly red and puffy.

She shook her head as she kept a firm hold on the door knob, ready to dismiss him at any given chance. "I don't understand. You..." She fixed him with a stern gaze, her blue eyes shining with resolve despite the weariness in them. "You're not supposed to be here."

"I know." He agreed, unsure of what to say as he carefully chose the words in his head. "Have you been crying?" Stupid question, but it was all he had—especially when she was unknowingly distracting him.

She frowned. "Does it matter?" She whispered, tearing her eyes away from his in a feeble attempt to mask her true feelings.

But it was too late. He had seen everything in those blue irises; the longing, the regret, the disappointment in the knowledge that their relationship had ended because of reasons she wasn't even privy to. He had never explained himself to her, and she had merely accepted his decision because she had known it would make him happy. He had come to know in their years together that Kisara was a selfless person by nature—always willing to give-up her happiness for the sake of those around her. And the infamous CEO knew he had taken advantage of that, and now that he was standing before her—on her front porch—willing to try and explain himself, he knew he was too late to change anything now. All it would take was one forceful word of refusal from her, and he knew he would lose his chance forever.

"What happened?" He asked in return. It was an automatic response from long ago whenever he had witnessed her state of negativity.

"You shouldn't even be here." Kisara murmured, staying firmly rooted on her spot, refusing to budge.

"I go out of my way to come see you even if I don't have to, and this is how it ends up." He scoffed, unable to keep the biting edge from his voice.

"I knew you. You wouldn't be doing such irrational things without reasonable motives." She replied, earning a familiar smirk from the man still standing at her front porch. "And you're with someone else now. There's no reason for you to come and see me."

"True." He pondered her words in his head, one hand stuffed into the pocket of his trousers.

They didn't say anything for a few moments, just letting each other's steely gazes bear down on each other, communicating a thousand words that neither of them were willing to acknowledge or say aloud. In that momentary lapse of thought and reality, he had stepped forward and now he towered over her with only a few inches separating them. Experience had led to Kisara's unflinching stance. She stood still, looking up at him defiantly as he stood before her, and he loved it. He never admitted it before, but perhaps he _had_ missed the fire that burned so brightly in her soul; burned with so much intensity that she was willing to challenge him for control over it whenever the need arose.

All he could do was give in to a sudden impulse that claimed his rational thought, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her—forcefully trying to reclaim what he had lost, demanding for a curt response. In his own defense, he hadn't come here for this, but Fate had a way of toying with him. A delicate hand against his chest gently pushed him back, aiming to retrieve personal space that he had unceremoniously invaded. His lips left hers softly and once more, he stood close to the still open doorway with half of his frame shrouded in the gloom.

He caught her dazed expression and her trying to regain her breath after he had stolen it with his unseemly gesture.

"After everything, you think you can just come up to me like this and kiss me?" She gasped quietly, her cheeks tinged with pink as her delicate hands balled up into tight fists.

Her words may have been on the verge of being slightly angered, but he knew she was far from it. If anything, her features screamed disbelief—stark and true.

The arrogant smirk that he knew she had not seen for so long surfaced, and without further hesitance, he brought a hand up to brush a lock of silvery hair over one shoulder. A finger then dared to venture further and traced a tentative line down the side of her face, appreciating the smooth skin beneath it. He caught her eye once more, simply pleading with her to understand that he needed this, and she did too. They both did.

Another step, another touch. This time, both of his hands dared to cup her face, tilting her head up gently.

"I guess I've never really moved on." He murmured, searching her eyes for any sign of revolt or revulsion. He found none. There was nothing there but even more confusion and he felt guilty that he was the cause of it being there.

"Kaiba."

The rest of her words were swallowed by another mind shattering kiss. It was softer this time, more pleading—a kiss that begged for forgiveness. With her lips still pressed softly against his, her eyelids fluttered and opened slightly, presenting her with the sight of him and his own half-lidded eyes, curtained cobalt watching her curiously in a similar manner that she was watching him.

As the shared breath of air between them dwindled, they reluctantly parted. Now they stood toe to toe, chest to chest. Her hands lingered on his torso as his forehead rested against hers. For a moment there, he could feel a dull ache deep in his chest as the pain reflected in her eyes made itself known. She bit her lip, refusing to let her gaze wander. She stayed locked in his mesmerizing stare, choosing to remain in the grip of hostile oblivion as she convinced herself to believe that this moment could be real—in every sense of the word.

His eyes roamed her face, taking in every feature. Those intense cobalt blue eyes lingered on the sight of her sensual lips as the temptation to take her plump lower lip between his teeth grew stronger the longer he stared. His self-imposed response only deepened even more when she tentatively bit down on her enticing mouth with her teeth. Without another second thought or reservation, he swooped in once more and claimed his delicious prize.

A kiss was not enough; it was never going to be enough. He yearned for more— _needed_ more, and it wasn't just him. One of his hands drifted down smoothly as he laid it upon the delicate curve of her lower back. He pushed her forward ever so gently, and she willingly complied as her slim body formed a perfect arch—anchoring herself against the shape of his.

The temperature continued to rise—close to stifling he would say, if he wasn't so preoccupied with touching her and tasting her—all over again.

Time and space meant nothing as doors were closed and footsteps were hurried and incalculable, broken in between with lush kisses and desire driven caresses. Both were hardly aware of the details regarding their surrounding area except the fact that they were both in a familiar setting—in her sleeping quarters with a bed just inches away waiting to break their fall.

Hands wandered, and clothes were shed as he lost himself in this intimate moment. His tongue had gained entrance into her hot mouth moments ago, and now it was exploring its cavern eagerly; tracing the ridges of her teeth, the inside of her cheek, the sensitive roof of her mouth that brought a desired response. She shuddered pleasantly in his arms as her fingers buried themselves in the strands of his soft brown hair. Her body arched knowingly against him, familiar and comfortable as she subconsciously pressed herself closer to him. Head tilted back, and slender arms around his broad shoulders as he planted famished kisses along the length of her neck and across her jaw. His hands ran over her arms, delighting in the feel of her soft skin on his fingertips.

Her own delicate hands ran over his back, feeling the shifting muscles beneath her palms as she ran them across his shoulder blades when he lowered her gently on her mattress.

"Say my name." He murmured in a low voice—almost a purr—as he nipped at her earlobe, causing pleasant shivers to race up and down her spine. It was a request; not a demand.

"Seto." She sighed as his hands traveled to her bare abdomen, caressing her flesh and making her yearn for more. A soft moan and a long pleasured sigh was his reward as his hands conveniently wandered to her hips and his tongue couldn't resist dragging itself along the length of her sweet neck.

He was powerless to resist the kind of temptation she had dangled before him. Her body readily responded to his ministrations; yielded perfectly as he traced a path of blazing fire across her skin with naught but his lips and tongue and his eager fingers. He gently grazed bits of her flesh with his teeth, earning him a delighted shudder from the writhing woman beneath him.

"It's really good to hear your voice." He spoke with resolve, staring into her beautiful blue eyes once he had savored the lingering taste of her on his tongue. He missed staring into those sapphire hues too. He pondered that as one of his hands reached up and stroked her soft flushed cheek.

He meant it. He meant every word. Going for so long without seeing her, or hearing her voice, it had been unimaginable subconscious torture. Every time he woke up to an empty bed; with nothing to fill the space beside him. It had always seemed wrong and odd. How he had gone through two straight years without her was beyond him. And to think that he had ended things between them on such an undesirable note only to confuse her was even worse. He had regretted it—deeply.

Her lips were red and swollen from his smoldering kisses, but that did not stop him from taking her delicious mouth again. She was only ever meant for him, wasn't she? All his, just as he should have been all hers. He kissed her lips as he finally slid himself into her, engulfed in the familiar heat and reckless need. He took her slowly, eager to make it last and push her over the edge as many times as his body was able to. His hands did not halt the progress they were making in tracing across her soft heated flesh. A thin layer of sweat began materializing from her pores, but that did not stop him from continuously plowing into her eager body and planting hot and wet kisses all over her exposed flesh.

He kept his pace up, pushing his hips forward and delighting in the response that he elicited from her. Soft breathy moans escaped her luscious lips as she uttered his name again and again; breath heavy and voice uneven from the amount of pleasure he was giving her. He loved it when she said his name. It sounded so sweet. How could it not when it came from the lips of an angel—a silver-haired angel? He had thrown her for several loops, rendering her exhausted from so much ecstasy and bliss.

"My Kisara." He murmured, tiredly falling half on top of her as his release came.

One of his hands traveled back up to her face and eventually to her hair. He wound his fingers into the silver strands, noting how soft and silky they were as he brushed some of them away from her exhausted face. Out of reflex and years of familiarity, she curled up against him, her head upon his chest—over the place where his heart was beating.

"We shouldn't have." She whispered against his sweat-slicked skin, nervously chewing on the inside of her swollen bottom lip.

He shook his head resolutely. "No." He disagreed. "What shouldn't have happened was the moment when I left you for the sake of something I deemed more important." He remarked bitterly, gazing down at her face as determined blue fire shown in his cobalt irises. "I was wrong." He squeezed his eyes shut.

She looked up at his anguished expression, sadness in her eyes. "You can't be with me and be with her at the same time."

"That was a publicity stunt that went too far." He admitted regrettably, opening his eyes just in time to see the tears roll down his lover's cheeks.

She was hurt. _He_ had hurt her, and there was no one else to blame for her pain but him. To see such a strong woman reduced to this in the face of what she could lose, he knew then that she really _did_ love him—cared about him genuinely that she would give up her emotional well-being if it meant that he would be content and happy. Well, he was not content and he _was_ unhappy...without her.

He leaned closer and subtly kissed each of her eyelids before leaning his forehead against hers, one hand tentatively erasing the evidence of tears upon her gorgeous face. Her hand immediately went up and caught his, a bittersweet smile unfurling upon her kiss-swollen lips. She made to pull away from him, to create distance between them, but he wouldn't let her—not this time around, and not when he knew it would sadden her further.

"It's always been you." He whispered, pulling her close again as his fingers worked on stroking her bare back.

With little choice in the matter, she buried her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent that she had missed so much as her own hands delighted in the feel of his solid frame pressed up against hers amid the sweat soaked sheets.

"If you'll have me again, I'll make it up to you. I'll prove it—show you how much you mean to me, how much I love you." His voice was low, soft, slightly unsure. "I'm cutting off the pathetic arrangement." He remarked, with more resolve this time, the anger that he felt earlier this evening had dissipated at the first sight of the love that he had neglected for years now.

"But if she loves you—" She started, tracing the outline of his bottom lip curiously.

She felt his lips raise slightly as he kissed her finger. "I was unfair to her." He explained, resuming his gentle strokes upon her soft hair. "I only ever wished she was you, but she never was and she's never going to be you." He smirked. "And I know that makes me sound like an asshole."

She chuckled in response to his last statement. "You are." She agreed, running a finger along his cheek. "But you're _my_ asshole if we're putting it this way."

He snorted before closing his eyes. "Is that a yes to the silent question I've been throwing?"

She hummed for a brief moment, appearing to think deeply on it. "You may take it that way, _if_ the tangled mess is finally sorted out."

"It will be."

He nodded before stealing another sweet and languid kiss for himself. He would sort everything out, but for now, he wanted this moment memorized, wanted to carve it into his memory for it to remain there. This moment with nobody else but him and the woman he _truly_ loved.

* * *

 **A/N: Can anyone guess who the other woman is? If you DID guess it correctly while reading, then I'd say you're pretty perceptive. xD So yes, it was Serenity. But in my defense, I don't see the logic behind a pairing such as theirs—meaning between Kaiba and Serenity. She only ever spoke to him ONCE in the entire series. Only that and no more, and it was a one-sided conversation to. Seto ignored her the whole time even if he** _ **did**_ **hear her plea out.**

 **While I strongly believe that Kaiba is an asexual character, I'd also like to think that if the writers actually came up with a romantic interest for him, that woman would be a reincarnated Kisara. And if Blueshipping were canon, I can say that it would be quite legitimate. Blueshipping itself makes a lot more sense than a SetoxSerenity pairing that I disagree with. No offense to Silentshippers out there, but we are all** **entitled to our own opinions. :3 Here's mine.**

 **But if you like Silentshipping anyway, then go ahead. No one's stopping you. I just don't think it makes sense. But since it's fanfiction, then I figure the fans can do whatever they want.**

 **So how was the story? Was it good enough? I want to thank you for reading and reviewing. It means a lot to me. :)**


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